PursueRelease
by cognomen
Summary: A quick study on the relationship of Mal and faith.


Time was kind of a loose concept when you spent so much of it in space. The sun didn't rise or set, seasons didn't change from warm to cold. You slept when you were tired, got up again when you were rested. The only time the passengers of the good ship Serenity really felt the passage of time - other than a dissasociated glance at a watch or clock that was set to a time zone on a planet that was however many hundreds of miles away - was when they were landed.

Mal had seen it that they would be best off drifting a little while, keeping their heads ducked. Which meant they were running a little lighter on things, just in case. Things were a little colder, everyone was wearing sweaters. Jayne had donned The Hat, and wore it most of the time, twirling it's pompoms in his active fingers when he wasn't cleaning his guns at the kitchen table.

Inara was the only one who missed this chilly vacation, she had an extended stay on a planet within a few day's travelling distance from where they were milling around in space. Everyone else was spending more intimate time with each other than they really intended to. Even the Shepherd had come forward into the kitchen where they all spent most of their days, doing some fairly magical things with hot water and some powdered apple cider, plus some spices that had languished in the kitchen since Kaylee had given up her shortlived attempts to bake sweet things that would last more than five seconds with three ravenous men on board.

So everyone gathered up at the kitchen when the ventilators carried the smell of warm apples and cinnamon to all populated areas of the ship and sat down at the table, and shared warm drinks. It felt like a family atmosphere, ragtag and mismatched though they were. And partially, that contributed. After all, you didn't pick your family.

Mal still did his best to set everyone against him, but without the leverage of Inara, just about everyone could simply ignore him or let it go. After a while, he gave up on any particularly needling comments, and just made the occasional somewhat unkind observation. Strictly for appearence's sake, you understand, can't let a crew think a man's gone soft.

As far as trouble, there was only a very minor incident in which a crossed wire deep in Wash's dash caused the equivalent of chinese elevator music to be piped throughout the ship's speaker system for several hours. Most of them had just gathered in the kitchen and spoken really loudly to cover up the boring and faintly obnoxious strains of music flying through the air.

Kaylee had sung along to some of it, earning a collective groan and some soft objects flung in her direction.

On the last night of their self-imposed exile, Mal decided it was OK to have a real, everybody sits down and eats until they felt their seams stretch, meal. Everyone sat down, Mal was overruled on the saying of Grace. Just this once.

With so many tasty items on the table, he didn't even complain about it much. He just sat there and made faces, grimacing every time God came up. He looked suspicious when the Shepherd offered to share dish-duty with him, but didn't stop him, figuring that the talk would be had one way or another, if it needed to be had.

The Shepherd took up the dishrag, while Mal got up to his elbows in suds, carefully scrubbing the crumbs from each plate and utensil.

"Why are you so resentful toward God, Captain?" Book didn't bother to mince around, knowing Mal preffered straight forward to anecdotal. The Shepherd was good enough at both.

"Don't rightly believe that there's anything there to resent, Shepherd." Mal didn't look at him, just down at the dishes, counting down until he could get out of this awkward conversation.

"You're so sure he doesn't exist?" Book accepted the next dish without trying to capture the Captain's wayward gaze.

"Sure. And come a time when He really matters and ain't there, you'll know too, Shepherd." Mal shoved the next dish into Book's hands with more force than was neccessary. The Shepherd didn't drop it, but took it evenly, and dried it. Set it next to the rest.

"Maybe the time you really need him hasn't come yet."

Mal looked up from the dishes, mouth in a firm line, eyes blazing. It reminded Book that as little he'd revealed of his past to the captain, he knew even less about Mal's personal past. Certainly, that he'd been a browncoat in the battle of Serenity, but that sort of history doesn't change a man all on it's own. Things he'd seen, things he'd done, no one knew this first hand from the captain save Zoe, and she was just as quiet as he on the subject of war.

Book let the subject drop, knowing that there were some sheep that could not be shepherded but by the master. 


End file.
